Guilt.
A poem.
This poem was written all the way back in 2016 and edited today to suit my current writing style.
It was originally posted on my other page, but I wanted to share it here, too, as I am leaning into the vulnerability of sharing the work that I wrote at some of the darkest moments of my journey and never shared with the outside world.
Guilt.
How can I feel so guilty, when it’s you that broke me down?
Why do I feel like it’s my fault, when you pulled me under, and left me there to drown?
How come you’re the monster, but I’m the one they blame?
Why, when you did this to me, am I so consumed by shame?
You cut me deeply, wounded me, then left me there to bleed.
And I’m the one who’s stuck inside this pain, from which I cannot be freed.
You swore you didn’t do it, made me out to be the crook.
You’ve written all this guilt and shame on me, like a sad and twisted book
I don’t know how to feel like I’m not guilty of a crime
When you were the one who had the blood on your hands for all this time.
By Lulu Marie Brady/Lola Jefferson(11-20 years old)